Stumbling in Darkness
by thewindinthemeadow
Summary: AU Some of the set up is like the show, but plenty of it isn't. Pre-series. Lucifer captures Sam and holds him prisoner. Possible future Samifer (Sam/Lucifer). Background a/b/o dynamics. Depressed!Sam. Manipulative!Lucifer. Gabriel will appear eventually.
1. Chapter 1

**I didn't plan this. I'm not sure what happened. I hope you like it.**

It was dark. So dark.

He couldn't see. He didn't know where he was going.

He just knew it was away, somewhere. He didn't care where he ended up, as long as it wasn't where he'd started.

Images flashed in his eyes. Blood splatter. Fists flying. A hole in the ice.

The only person who cared about him, dead on the ground.

So he was running.

Branches lashed at his face, so maybe he was in a forest. It didn't matter. The incline was steep, but he was trained to hike well. He kept going, he wasn't sure for how long. At some point, still well before dawn, he fell asleep on the cold, hard ground.

He woke to hail. It struck him on the arms, and the lash of pain woke him.

It wasn't dark, not really. The clouds were just dense and heavy, and they covered the sun.

He covered his head with his arms to stave off the worst of it, and kept going. The hail turned to rain. His arms were bloody, and the rain washed it away. But he could still feel the blood. He felt dirty. How could he still be alive? He deserved to die. He should've died.

More then he wanted to die, he wanted to get as far away as possible. So he kept going up. He must've been on the slopes of a mountain.

It got steeper. Sometimes he had to use his rock climbing training, but he always managed to keep going. It was dangerous, especially with the wrong shoes and no rope, but he didn't care if he fell.

If he fell he would die. It wouldn't be a problem. It would be nice to be dead. Dean was dead.

So he kept climbing. He was weak from hunger and thirst, so he ate berries and leaves. He drank from a stream. Maybe some of those things were poisonous. Maybe they weren't. He didn't know, and it didn't matter.

Days passed. He was still climbing up and down nearly impassable mountains. He still hadn't died.

It was night. The moon was close to full. He was an omega. His once a month heat started.

It was nasty. He lay on the ground and didn't bother moving. It was agony. He might've screamed a little. He certainly cried a lot.

He hated his heats. Not just because they were a painful inconvenience, though they were. The heats were the biggest evidence he was an omega. If he wasn't an omega, Dean would still be alive.

John wouldn't hate him. They would still be a family. A wrecked family, but it would be better than this. Dean wouldn't have had to defend him when John got angry. Dean wouldn't have fallen through the hole in the ice.

On the third day he was strong enough to get up. He started climbing again. He kept climbing, and he traveled farther and farther into the uncharted wilderness.

He found, as days passed, it was easier to hike in the night than the day. He became nocturnal. He was asleep in the hottest part of the day, and he climbed all through the night. Since he had caused his brother's death, he deserved to live in the dark.

It was like a little death, staying in the night.

As time passed, his hair grew and his clothing fell apart. His posture was more like an animal. He hadn't spoken in weeks, and in a way he forgot how. His thinking simplified to just hiking.

A cluster of mountains hid a sheltered dell. He was trying to climb through the cluster. He fell.

His leg scraped against the rock wall. Twigs caught in his long, mangled hair. The wind rushed past his face.

He hit the ground.

His legs hurt. His foot was twisted at an unnatural angle. A cut on his chest poured blood across him, and it covered the leaves beside him. His head had bruised where it hit the ground.

He wished he was unconscious. He couldn't move. He just lay there.

It would've been convenient if he'd just died there, but his luck held up. The wound on his chest managed to clot, and it slowly scabbed over. He was a bloody mess, but if he didn't get infected, he'd live.

He thought his ankle might be broken. It wouldn't hold his weight.

It was so engrained in his mind. He had to keep going, so he started to crawl. He didn't make it far.

He collapsed. He couldn't move. His head pounded mercilessly.

It was still deeply night. There were no traces of light from the far off sunrise. The wind picked up. The air grew cold.

He shivered, where he lay on the ground. The wind was enough to mask someone's approach. The hair on the back of his neck stood up. He tensed. But he whimpered at the pain the tension produced in his ankle.

He had fallen, so his position was awkward. He couldn't see around himself because of the angle. It was dark, and the darkness made it even harder to see.

He sensed someone standing above him. Breath ghosted over his neck. He shuddered.

His throat was dry, so his voice came out rough.

"Who are you?"

It was a moment before he heard a reply.

"Lucifer."

Lucifer's voice sent chills down his spine. He tried to turn around to see Lucifer, but pain lanced through his leg. He gave up.

"The fallen angel?"

It was a moment before Lucifer answered his question.

"I'm no angel."

He didn't have anything to say in reply.

"Tell me your name."

He didn't want to. He didn't have a name anymore, in a way. There was no one to call him by it, so he'd lost it when Dean died, the night he fled to the forest. But the command in Lucifer's voice left no space for refusal. So he answered.

"Sam."

The silence hadn't gone on for long when he felt cold fingers against his throat. They cut off his airway, strangling him.

He tried to push Lucifer away. He wasn't strong enough. His resistance weakened as he lost oxygen.

What little he could see in the darkness faded into black.

 **I don't know if this is a one-shot or not. Does anyone want to read more? If two or three people do, I'll probably continue this, so... review if you want me to keep going.**


	2. Chapter 2

**So, part two. I just couldn't stop thinking about this story, so...**

He was lying the ground. Except it was too smooth to be the ground. It must've been a floor.

Odd. He hadn't been on a floor in the last month and a half. So where was he? What had happened? He could remember falling. He'd crawled a little ways, and then…

His throat was burning. There were bruises in the shape of fingers on his neck.

Lucifer had left him alive. Interesting. Why? He didn't know enough about Lucifer to guess yet why he did anything, so he gave up thinking about it.

He opened his eyes, but he couldn't see any better than he had when they were closed. Either he was blind, or there was no light to see by. The darkness was absolute.

He tried to sit up. His head pounded, and agony traced up from his ankle. His chest throbbed. The combined effect was to knock him right back down.

He shivered, noticing for the first time how cold the room was.

He heard footsteps.

"Lucifer?"

His question was tentative.

He didn't get an answer. He could hear Lucifer kneel beside him. He felt cold fingers trace across his neck.

He shied away, for he was afraid. Was Lucifer toying with him? Dragging out his life to steal it away? Perhaps he'd intended to kill Sam when he strangled him, and this was just a mistake.

But Lucifer was being gentle. His touch wasn't painful; it was actually soothing. Sam was scared, but- this was nice, in a creepy way. He found himself relaxing involuntarily.

Lucifer's hand was gone for a moment, and then he was working a cream into the bruised places on Sam's neck. It was cool, and the pain started to ease immediately. Lucifer finished after just a few minutes.

A few moments later his fingers danced across the cut on Sam's chest. Sam gave a little cry and jerked away.

"Hold _still_ ," Lucifer ordered. "You need stitches."

Sam forced himself to still. Lucifer was careful, and the pain wasn't too bad. It was more the fear getting to him, making him uneasy. Earlier Lucifer had partially strangled him. Now he was stitching up his wounds with a sharp needle.

And Sam couldn't even see him. He hoped Lucifer could see, even if it would be another way Lucifer had power over him.

Sam didn't want someone stitching him up blindly. It wasn't safe to do by feel.

There was something Sam didn't understand. Earlier, Lucifer had hurt him. Now…

"Why are you doing this?"

It was a moment before Lucifer answered.

"I'm going to keep you, and I don't want you injured too badly right now."

" _Keep_ me?" He was horrified. He wasn't a pet.

"I always say what I mean, Sam."

"So, I'm what? Your slave?"

"Don't sugar coat it." Lucifer's voice dripped with amusement.

"This isn't a joke." Sam was desperate. "You're talking about my life."

"And I'm not joking."

"So, you're serious about keeping me as your slave."

Sam was starting to have a hard time breathing. The overload from being captured, and strangled, and now enslaved was catching up with him. He was having some sort of breakdown.

"Calm down." Lucifer's voice was soft and gentle, yet commanding.

"I can't," Sam choked out.

"Lie there and wait it out."

Lucifer's footsteps retreated.

"W-wait! Come back. You can't just leave me here!"

He knew Lucifer must have heard him, but he didn't come back.

Sam was alone in the dark. His head throbbed. His ankle felt like someone was cutting it open with a knife. He couldn't breathe right.

At some point, he fell into a shallow doze. He was too dizzy from hyperventilating to stay fully conscious.

He wasn't asleep enough to reap the mental benefits, but he was able to rest some. He wasn't aware of his surroundings for a while.

He was a little calmer when he came back around.

"Lucifer?"

He was half hoping there wouldn't be a response. There was one. His luck was consistently awful.

"Are you done whining?"

Lucifer sounded more annoyed than angry.

Sam wasn't sure how to respond. He gave a slight nod.

"Good. It was boring."

Again, Sam didn't know what to say. But Lucifer was apparently waiting for him, so he needed to say something.

"If I'm your slave, I assume there's something you want me to do," Sam stated. "It would simplify matters if you would tell me."

"Ah, you want a purpose. A basic human trait."

"OK." Sam didn't know what Lucifer thought he was talking about, but he was used to people saying random, illogical things. He'd grown up around John Winchester, after all.

"Purpose," Lucifer hummed under his breath. "Huh."

"You must've had some reason to bring me here."

It was Sam's last hope. If there was a concrete reason Lucifer had brought him here, there was a chance he could complete it and be allowed to leave. In his weakened condition, escape simply wasn't part of the picture.

"You interested me. You're entertaining."

"No."

It came out as a whisper. There was no way for Sam to get Lucifer to allow him to leave, when Lucifer wanted him for entertainment.

It could have been worse. Sam was an omega, and a lot of people would've been happy to exploit him. Hopefully, Lucifer wouldn't be one of them. There was still no guarantee, but he wasn't intended as a sex slave.

"Are- are there rules or something so I know what's expected of me?"

"No trying to escape."

"Obviously." Sam didn't even try to keep the bitterness out of his voice.

"No agreeing with everything I say. It would get boring real fast."

Sam hadn't expected anything along those lines. At least there was one rule he could get behind.

"These rules are dumb. Get to the good part."

Lucifer laughed.

Maybe this wouldn't be as hard as Sam had expected.

"I'll take as much time as I want. No deliberate property damage."

"What happens if I break these rules?" Sam was honestly curious.

"I punish you."

"By?"

"Whatever I feel like at the time, possibly including extended torture and your bloody, violent death."

Lucifer sounded as casual as if he were discussing the weather. It was chilling.

Sam shuddered.

"What are the rest of the rules?" Sam made the question sound like a challenge.

"No trying to contact anyone, though it's not like you could."

It didn't matter. Sam had no one to contact. His mother was long dead. His father hated him. And his brother- his brother was recently dead.

"No protest to my latest rule?" Lucifer sounded almost disappointed. "No snarky comment?"

"There's no one to contact." Sam's tone was empty.

"Ouch," Lucifer commented. "No dad?"

"He disowned me."

Sam found himself fighting to keep his voice neutral. He was dangerously close to another breakdown, and he had no intention of letting Lucifer see him so vulnerable again.

"Why? For a human, you're tolerable."

"I'm an omega."

The admission felt bitter in Sam's mouth.

"And?"

At least Lucifer didn't seem to care.

"He wanted both his sons to be alphas."

"Even for a human, your dad's dumb."

Maybe Sam should've felt the need to defend John. He didn't.

"Yeah, he's about the worst father I could imagine."

"Mine was worse."

Sam shrugged. He didn't know anything about Lucifer's father.

"I'm sorry, I guess. But it's no excuse for enslaving me."

"Oh, I know. Your enslavement is all on me. Back to the rules. No self-harm."

"You have weird rules."

It wasn't like Sam cut or anything, he just hadn't expected it to be against the rules. Why would Lucifer care if he self-harmed?

"I'm the only one who gets to beat you up now, Sam, including you. No self–harm."

"Oh, so you're being a controlling brat," Sam snarked. "I get it."

"Exactly. You catch on quickly."

Sam felt sick. Was this what the rest of his life was going to be like?

"You haven't mentioned no trying to kill you."

Rules or no rules, he was going to try it.

"You can try. I'll punish you, of course, when you try. It'll be interesting to see what you come up with. And what punishments I use on you for it. I wonder what you'd look like with no fingers…"

Sam was completely disgusted.

"You sick, twisted asshole. Is there anything you won't stoop to?"

"I have limits, just like anyone else. I'll never lie to you, Sam."

"Sure." Sam's voice dripped with sarcasm.

"You should believe me." Lucifer sounded angry.

"Well, I don't," Sam spat.

Lucifer backhanded Sam hard enough to wind him. He kicked Sam in the chest, where the stitches were exposed.

"I don't lie. Don't suggest I do."

He left.

Sam was alone in the dark again, trying not to scream at the pain in his stitches. It was warmer, now Lucifer had left, but he was even more miserable.

He didn't usually mind the dark, but it was depressing in too large of quantities. And the lack of sight left him feeling exposed.

He wanted to sleep. He knew it would leave him feeling even less safe, but it would be such a relief. But he was in too much pain and too awkward a position to sleep.

The hard, cold floor didn't help.


	3. Chapter 3

**Lucifer keeps creeping me out by being nicer to Sam than I expected. I'm worried about what he's plotting behind my back. I'm the author, Luci! We have to follow my plot! Yeah, like that's going to happen. Well, here's an extra long chapter because there were no sooner break points I liked. Hope you enjoy it. Please review!**

The miserable silence was broken when Lucifer stormed in angrily.

"Get up," he snapped.

Sam rolled his eyes in frustration. "I can't."

"Get. Up."

"I broke my ankle. I can't walk."

Lucifer groaned in frustration. He plopped down beside Sam and roughly grabbed his ankle. Sam tried to muffle his screams.

Lucifer bent Sam's ankle back into the proper shape. He splinted it or something, Sam couldn't tell in the dark. Lucifer hauled him to his feet, and he was able to stay up despite the pain. It was an improvement.

"Come on."

Sam thought about it. He didn't want to do a trust walk with his captor.

"I can't see."

"I don't care."

"No."

Lucifer growled. It wasn't loud or anything, but it was menacing.

Sam shivered. He took a few hesitant steps forward, deciding he'd rather fall than make Lucifer madder. He was scary enough as it was.

"Hurry up."

"I don't want to walk into a wall," Sam protested.

"I know where all the walls are. You will only walk into a wall if I want you to. At this rate, your face will be acquainting itself with a lot of walls. Hurry up."

Sam increased his pace a little, but it was nerve wracking. Deprived of sight, his mind went into overdrive to try to defend him. He was flinching and ducked over, arms out in front of him. It was a form of torture, this sensory deprivation, and it left him feeling vulnerable.

"Alright, stop." Lucifer sounded exasperated and angry.

Sam was only too happy to stop shuffling slowly forward in terror. His ankle almost stopped hurting for a little while.

"Hands behind your back."

Sam wasn't sure what to think of Lucifer's newest order. It didn't make sense. He didn't like not knowing what Lucifer was planning to do to him.

"What are you going to do?" Sam was feeling mutinous.

"Handcuff you. I want you to stop relying on your hands for protection."

"What? N-no."

Lucifer slashed Sam's arm open with some sharp object, and at the same time kicked the backs of Sam's knees. Sam dropped to the ground, crying out in surprise and pain.

"Put your hands behind your back."

This time, Sam obeyed. He was too tired and broken to refuse.

The handcuffs were too tight, and bit into the skin on Sam's wrists. He barely noticed the added pain, too overloaded to feel anything new.

"Stand up," Lucifer ordered harshly.

Sam struggled to his feet. He was afraid Lucifer would expect him to walk forward without any defense or guidance, but he felt Lucifer's hand on the back of his neck, guiding him forward. Sam found the gesture reassuring, even though Lucifer had threatened to walk him into walls.

How could he find Lucifer's help reassuring? He was not getting Stockholm Syndrome. Absolutely not. It would be too awful to imagine.

In the interests of _not_ getting Stockholm Syndrome, Sam tried to stand straighter. He wasn't going to cower just because he was blind, handcuffed, and walking on a broken ankle.

Sam made his steps long and tried to walk confidently. A total act, but if he could fool Lucifer, it would be more than worth it.

He walked into a wall. Sam recoiled, crying out in shock.

"What the- you walked me into a wall!"

"Genius, Sammy. You noticed you walked into a wall."

"This isn't funny," Sam protested. He was scared, hurt, and miserable. There wasn't much more of Lucifer's crap he could handle.

"Your nose is bleeding," Lucifer informed Sam smugly.

"Great," Sam snapped. "Just great." He spat out blood.

"Having a fun walk?" Lucifer inquired 'innocently'.

"I hate you."

"You too, dearest."

Sam spat more blood, this time in the direction of Lucifer's voice.

"Hey, you don't spit at me. It's uncalled for."

"Sure it was," Sam snapped. "Did you have a plan for where we're going, or are we just going to stand here forever?"

"We obviously need to walk into more walls."

Lucifer led Sam around in what felt like circles for a while. Sam was in a constant state of panic, expecting to hit a wall at any second. But he didn't run into any more walls.

His ankle was still an agony, and walking on it was difficult. But there was no way he was asking Lucifer for a break. Even though it felt like he was stabbing himself every time he put his weight down on his bad foot. He'd survive. He'd had worse.

He stumbled and would've fallen, but Lucifer caught him and kept him upright.

"Careful there, Sammy."

"I'm fine," Sam whined. "Lemme go."

Lucifer released his hold on him.

Sam's ankle couldn't take the amount of weight he put on it. He wavered dizzily for a few moments before starting to fall again.

Lucifer caught Sam, _again,_ and steadied him gently. Really, if this kept up, Sam was going to be dead of embarrassment within the hour.

He had to lean against Lucifer for support, and he might've preferred falling on his face. Maybe not. With the handcuffs on, he'd have no chance of catching himself. His already injured nose would not be happy.

"I can walk just fine." Sam knew his statement was inaccurate and unbelievable, but he had to say it for resistance's sake.

"You're suffering from blood loss, a concussion, multiple lacerations and contusions, and a sprained ankle. You're not walking if you can't even stand."

Sam decided to ignore Lucifer's inconsistencies. He also didn't want to think about how he couldn't stand, and his captor was literally holding him. Not cool. So he focused on a minor, safe detail guaranteed to not make him cry.

"I thought my ankle was broken."

"You were wrong. I checked when I splinted it."

"Oh." Sam couldn't think of anything else to say.

Lucifer scooped Sam fully into his arms, bridal style, with no warning.

"What are you doing? Put me down!"

"What? You thought you were going to walk?"

Lucifer didn't have to sound so amused, Sam griped, but he didn't voice the thought.

"Better than having you carry me!" OK, so maybe what he'd actually said wasn't much more tactful than the thought he'd rejected saying.

"What are you going to do, jump out of my arms?"

"Great idea," Sam snapped.

"Go ahead and try it. If you think you're injured now…" Lucifer trailed off threateningly.

Sam decided not to push him too much. He was, after all, trying to avoid injury.

"Put me down right now, Lucifer, or I swear-"

"What?" Lucifer laughed. "You'll growl at me? Oo, scary. Your threats need work, sweetheart."

"What the hell did you just call me?" Sam demanded.

"You heard me," Lucifer commented cheerfully.

Sam had no idea what to do with the new nickname. "You don't get to- just put me down already!"

"I don't get to put you down? I thought it was what you wanted?" Lucifer asked, deliberately misunderstanding Sam's use of an ellipsis.

"You bastard."

"You're the one whose father disowned him. You're technically the bastard, not me."

Sam choked on the cutting, unexpected reply. "Don't talk about my dad."

"Then don't _you_ deliberately bring up the topic of parents."

"I didn't," Sam growled. "Nobody means the original word when they say something barely even connected."

"The basis is still there for the meaning of the word. You shouldn't use something if you aren't prepared for the consequences of its full meaning."

"What, so now you're lecturing me on swearing?"

"No," Lucifer said, calm before the force of Sam's anger. "I want you to fully mean everything you say."

"It's dumb. I don't care, you bastard."

"Alright," Lucifer snapped. "If you won't make sure you mean every word you say, I'm not going to let you say anything."

"You don't own me. I'll talk if I want."

Lucifer set Sam down. It was something of a shock. He'd anticipated Lucifer refusing to put him down, just because he knew it ticked Sam off to be carried.

Footsteps retreated in the dark. He didn't know where Lucifer was going, or what he was doing. There was no sound to warn Sam when Lucifer came back.

"You're wrong." Lucifer's voice came suddenly out of the darkness. He roughly duck taped Sam's mouth shut. "I do own you."

Furious, Sam kicked out in roughly the direction Lucifer's voice had come from. His foot connected with something solid.

Lucifer yelped, though he sounded more surprised than hurt. He quickly retaliated, hitting Sam in the head hard enough to stun him.

Sam lay there, too dazed to do more than make petty noises. They would've been groans, but through the gag they didn't sound coherent enough to have a name.

Lucifer picked Sam up and continued walking. "Mmm-mph," Sam whined, too weak to resist properly.

"Whatever you want isn't happening," Lucifer said.

"Mumph," Sam complained.

"Don't worry," Lucifer said cheerfully. "I don't have any particularly horrible plots for your immediate future."

"Mmm," Sam groaned despairingly.

"Shockingly coherent, sweetheart," Lucifer encouraged sarcastically. "Stunning annunciation."

"Uhh- mph," Sam retorted.

Lucifer didn't respond.

It wasn't long before they reached their destination. Sam heard a door swing shut and a lock click. Lucifer dropped him onto a horizontal surface at waist height. It was comfortable and soft, like a well designed mattress.

"Mmm?" Sam tried to inquire.

"Not sure what you're asking, Sammy."

"Umm," Sam replied. He sounded resigned.

"Sorry, kiddo. You're still on quiet time."

"Mph," Sam sighed.

"Good talk," Lucifer agreed.

Sam heard a strange noise almost like a wingbeat. He wasn't sure what it was, and he felt nervous. The temperature quickly rose. It wasn't too hot or anything, it just stopped being a little cold like it had been for a while. Odd.

"Umph uh phm?"

There was no answer. Sam was getting scared. He didn't like the quiet when he couldn't see, talk, or move his arms. He was helpless, which was frightening enough when he understood what was happening.

"Mmm-umph," he pleaded.

Still no answer. Was this Lucifer's new method of torturing him? Be super quiet until Sam was a wreck from suspense? What was going to happen?

"Uh umm-phuh," Sam almost begged. It was sad, in a funny way. His best try at saying 'Lucifer' was 'Uh um phuh.' Not even close. He couldn't say much of anything.

He couldn't handle it. Lying alone in the dark, not sure if he was alone or not, not even capable of moving. He felt so fragile and exposed.

After a while, he couldn't keep his tears from falling. He didn't want to cry. He wanted to be strong. Tough like the alpha John had wanted him to be. But he wasn't, and maybe even an alpha would've broken under these nightmarish conditions.

Frankly, an alpha would've broken sooner. Omegas were designed to cope with imprisonment. An alpha would've had the desperate need to control and dominate, where Sam could handle working with what he had.

Until he was crying pitifully from the panic and pain of all his uncertainty and terror. "Mmm," he wailed. "Mmm-uh mph."

Sam heard another wingbeat and the soft rustling of feathers. "Hey, Sam?"

"Mmm-uh," Sam sobbed.

"Whoa, Sammy. What's with the tears? You were so brave earlier."

Surprisingly, Lucifer's tone wasn't mocking. He sounded sincerely, if only mildly, concerned.

Sam shuffle/crawled towards where his voice had come from, desperate for some kind of touch to let him know this was real. He felt like his mind could've broken from being alone in the darkness for too long, and this was all some crazy vision.

"Stop moving," Lucifer ordered. "You'll only hurt yourself."

More tears fell. Sam couldn't handle the dark if there was nobody with him. At this point, he would rather be beaten than ignored. He _had_ to have some kind of connection with someone.

"Humans don't do well with sensory deprivation, huh?" Lucifer asked.

His fingers stroked gently along the side of Sam's face. Sam flinched at first, but quickly leaned into the touch, desperate for more.

Lucifer pulled back and slapped him, hard.

Sam whimpered pitifully, another sob escaping him.

Lucifer went back to gently rubbing Sam's cheek, and he immediately started leaning in again.

"Interesting," Lucifer mused. "Your reactions are always so unique."

He picked Sam up, avoiding irritating his many injuries, and cradled him in his lap. Sam leaned back against him, his breathing settling down as his tears slowed.

"I like you, Sammy. Most of you humans disgust me, but you- you're so different. And you want me to hold you, even though I just slapped you for no reason."

"Umm-mmm," Sam mumbled quietly.

"This deserves experimentation. I'm going to slap you again, Sam."

Sam was a little confused about why he was being forewarned, but it was nice to know. He would've tensed, but he knew enough to know not to. He relaxed his neck muscles and prepared for the pain he expected.

Lucifer brought his hand back and swung towards Sam's face, but he deliberately only brushed the edges of his fingers against it. Sam didn't flinch, although he was confused.

"And you don't even flinch. No tension, no fear." Lucifer sounded impressed. "Peculiar."

 _What happened to not lying to me?_ Sam wanted to ask. _You said you'd slap me._

"Uh-mph mumph-eh-mm," Sam actually asked. "Mmm."

"Hmm," Lucifer said thoughtfully.

He slapped Sam again.

Taken off guard, Sam cried out. But he didn't pull away. He choked back his tears and only sniffled a little.

"Enough for today, I suppose," Lucifer said.

He lowered Sam onto the bed and dropped down beside him. He draped blankets over them both and wrapped his arms around his fragile, captive human.

Sam would've been scared, but he could tell there was nothing sexual about their position. He felt safe enough to curl into Lucifer and take the offered comfort.


	4. Chapter 4

**Sorry about the month long delay on this chapter. I have no excuses besides how creepy Lucifer was in the season thirteen finale episode. I love Jack, so I didn't want to write Lucifer for a while after watching it. That's why he doesn't come in until the end of the chapter.**

Sam woke up alone. He was curled up on a soft bed with fuzzy blankets tucked around him, but Lucifer was gone.

For a little while he couldn't find it in himself to worry. He was safe and comfortable, and nobody was hitting him. He was tired and pleasantly warm.

The problems in his situation became glaring as he woke up more fully, the sleepy daze in his mind clearing. He was handcuffed, cut, bruised, his nose had dried blood in it, his ankle was sprained, and Lucifer had gagged him.

It was possibly the worst position he'd been in in years.

Sam's hunter training started kicking in. If there was a way out of this, he needed to find it before Lucifer came back.

Ignoring the pain in his ankle, he pulled his knees to his chest and moved his arms to get the handcuffs in front of him, giving him more mobility.

He needed a lock-pick. If he could fully free his hands from the cuffs, he might have a prayer of finding a way out. But he had nothing like a lock pick on his person, and meandering blindly in an unfamiliar place was foolish.

Sam found the edge of the bed and maneuvered so his feet were on the ground. His ankle hurt, but he could stand alright. He took two uncertain steps forward.

He found a wall. He walked along the wall until he found another wall perpendicular to the first one.

With careful, painful experimentation Sam found out he was in a doorless, windowless room. He was confused about how Lucifer came and left freely, but it didn't really matter. Sam was trapped.

There wasn't much furniture in the room, so it was easy for Sam to remember where everything was without seeing it.

The large, comfortable bed was against one wall. There were pillows of all shapes and sizes, and a plethora of blankets. Most of the blankets were fuzzy, but there were other textures as well.

A pile of beanbag chairs lay against the far wall. He hadn't expected anything so modern. It was odd. But he had to admit he liked them.

One whole wall was made of glass. Sam couldn't figure out why. The glass was uneven but not sharp. There was no discernable pattern to the bumps and hollows, but he found it was interesting to run his hands along it and try to make out shapes.

A empty desk or table in the corner went with two simple wooden chairs. A bookcase was beside it, and Sam was frustrated with his inability to read the books as he couldn't see. He could feel them to tell they were mostly older, hardcover books, and some of them had been used enough to be nearly falling apart.

Sam sat down on a braided rug in the center of the room. He felt like smashing something. The whole situation was a complete nightmare. He wanted out.

But there was no escape. He was trapped here, and he had no easy way to resist Lucifer.

All the options were bad.

Sam hated it when he felt like he didn't have any choices. There had to be something he could decide to do for himself.

Ah, yes. Mess up all ruinable objects.

Hadn't it been a part of Lucifer's list of things Sam wasn't allowed to do? It was perfect.

Most of the things in the room weren't particularly breakable, but Sam found some stuff he could smash. He used a chair leg to shred the pillows and tear through the blankets. He upended the mattress, though he couldn't make the bedframe move enough to damage it.

He broke the chairs against the wall and snapped them into the smallest pieces he could. Bits of wood tore into his fingers, but the pain just fed his anger. He ended up trying to smash a hole through the wall. It wouldn't work.

His fists were bleeding, and the handcuffs dug into his wrists. The pain started to override the rage he felt, and he slowly sunk down against the wall. He pushed uselessly against the unbreakable wall, feeling horrifically helpless.

It was just too horrible. He couldn't get out. He couldn't do anything more than smash a bunch of furniture.

At some point he hid in the pile of shredded blanket mess. He wanted a little protection between him and the room he'd so violently destroyed. He just felt like someone was going to attack him.

Sam wished the last few months were only a nightmare. He could wake up and be back home and Dean would still be alive. He'd be able to see things and not hurt all the time. Even with John there it couldn't be this bad.

He fell asleep, hoping to at least dream of when he'd had a home.

No such luck.

 _Sam was standing in a bar. It was the sort of place Dean would've loved and Sam typically avoided. The counter was dirty, and the barstools were hard and lumpy. It was completely empty of customers. An Asia song Sam didn't know blasted from the stereo loudly enough to shake the walls. Sam covered his ears with his hands and hurried out of the bar. He didn't like music to be so loud._

 _The narrow street outside was covered in litter and weeds. It looked morose and abandoned, not at all friendly or alive. There were no people anywhere._

 _Sam started slowly down the street. There were no turns or anything._

 _He picked up his pace. The dark street was unfriendly, and he just wanted to get away from it. He wanted to find a turn. There had to be a turn._

 _Eventually he came to a place where he could see a side street in the distance. He ran forward, desperate to reach a new road._

 _It was a mirage._

 _The new street vanished when he reached it. He'd been so desperate for it his mind had made him see it. He collapsed to the ground and started crying._

 _He didn't know why it was so important to him to escape the street he was on. Dreams aren't rational places. It was life or death to him to get away. There was just no way to do it._

 _The weeds grew much more quickly than they could've in reality. They split the cobblestones and covered the litter with green and brown thorns. A mound of weeds grew over Sam and covered him completely._

 _For a while he didn't care._

 _Then he realized what was happening. He started to fight against the brambles. Thorns stung his hands and arms, but he fought his way out._

 _It was still night. There were no stars in the sky above him._

 _A single shooting star fell across the sky._

 _It was fast. He saw it for a moment, and then it was gone. But he seemed warmer, somehow, having seen the star. He felt more alive._

 _He came back to the reality of the street. There were no gaps in the buildings. The road went on endlessly._

 _Sam was still trapped._

 _He got up and started walking again. It wasn't like there were any other choices. If he wanted to get off the road, he'd have to try harder. It couldn't go on forever._

 _Time passed randomly, the sun rising and falling several times in a few minutes. The world seemed dull and empty, even in the bright daylight._

 _It was night again when Sam gave up._

 _The road was endless. There was no escape._

 _He didn't feel any urge to cry. He sat down on the edge of the sidewalk and stared ahead. He felt empty._

 _He had nothing and no one, and he might as well give up. There was no reason for him to live._

 _When Sam started sitting his posture was erect._

 _Time passed. The sun never rose. The starless sky was forever dark. There wasn't even another single shooting star to give a little bit of life to the world._

 _Sam's posture drifted minutely downward until he was slumped._

 _More time passed. He was starved for any feeling. He wanted to see someone, anyone. He wanted to hear someone speak or feel someone's arms around him. He'd settle for anything._

 _His head was on his knees._

 _He was lying on the ground._

 _He didn't have the strength to get up, or the will to try. He was completely empty. He'd be no less alive if he died. He didn't even have enough life left to wish he was dead._

Sam woke up. If the nightmare had been less horrible, maybe he would've screamed. As it was he was too afraid.

He almost cried, but somehow the fear and emptiness in his chest were too much to let him. His eyes wouldn't form tears.

He wanted to cry. He wanted the emotional release he knew would come with tears. He couldn't get it. He was just frozen, trapped. So he lay there shaking.

"I've been waiting for you to wake up."

" _Lucifer._ " Sam could only whisper.

"You know I said no deliberate property damage."

Sam flinched. He'd forgotten about wrecking everything he could find. It seemed so long ago.

"Sorry," Sam mumbled weakly. "P-please, can you be mad l-later?"

Lucifer didn't answer for a moment. "Why should I?"

"Please," Sam begged. "Please help me."

Sam felt cool fingers against his cheek.

"Alright," Lucifer agreed.

There was a rustling of fabric, and Lucifer slipped into bed beside Sam. He gently hugged Sam to his chest and nuzzled his hair. Sam hugged him back desperately.

Sam listened to Lucifer's heartbeat and started to relax a little. It had only been a nightmare. Lucifer was here, so it couldn't be as bad as being alone. Lucifer might be horrid, but he was nothing compared to the dream. And right now he was being very nice.

Tears started escaping Sam's eyes. He wasn't sure if they were from fear or relief. Whatever it was, it felt better than the horrible loneliness of the street in the dream. He felt alive.

Lucifer seemed ok with waiting patiently while Sam cried. He ran his fingers through Sam's hair and kept holding him close.

After a while Sam ran out of tears.

He just lay there in Lucifer's arms for a while, but soon questions started presenting themselves to his mind.

"I'm not handcuffed," he blurted, without thinking about it.

"Very astute," Lucifer teased. "You aren't gagged either. Or did you not notice you were talking?"

"Oh," Sam said in surprise. "I was- uh, distracted, I guess." He buried his face in Lucifer's shirt again, holding back a fresh round of tears.

"Nightmare?" Lucifer guessed.

Sam nodded weakly.

"Tell me about it."

Sam shook his head adamantly. He knew it was probably a good idea to talk about it, but he wasn't telling Lucifer anything so personal.

Lucifer shoved Sam away.

Sam gave a little cry of panic and despair. He crawled back to where Lucifer had been, but nobody was there. There was only a slight cold spot on the covers.

Sam found he was on a bed like the one he'd destroyed earlier. Lucifer wasn't anywhere on it.

Sam started to panic. He couldn't be alone. Not after the dream.

"Please come back," he whimpered. "Lucifer? Please."

"Tell me about your dream," Lucifer ordered. "I'll hold you afterwards if you do."

Sam started crying. He didn't want to tell Lucifer about the dream or give in to his demands, but he couldn't see any other choice. Nothing was worth being alone.

"O-OK," he sobbed. He pulled his knees to his chest and huddled into a ball. "I-I was in a bar somewhere, and there was nobody th-there and the music was too loud. So I left, and then I was on this street, only there weren't any intersections at all. And- and I was just walking and walking f-forever- alone." He shivered.

Sam felt soft arms around him and he was pulled into Lucifer's embrace. He relaxed as Lucifer covered them both with blankets and rubbed circles on Sam's back.

"Go on," Lucifer said gently.

"I th-thought there was a turn up ahead, but then it was just a m-mirage. And I was so lonely and I felt so t-trapped…" He took a moment to gather himself. "I saw a shooting star," he confided, leaning into Lucifer's embrace and closing his eyes.

Sam fell peacefully asleep, not really worried about anything right then. For a moment, his life seemed almost ok. Lucifer smirked.


End file.
